


Irish Eyes See The Bookworm

by NathanielCardeu



Series: When Irish Eyes Are Smiling [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 06:23:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11053137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NathanielCardeu/pseuds/NathanielCardeu
Summary: Summary:A series of Drabbles exploring Seamus’ early feelings for Hermione, mainly through the use of 100 word stories (though a couple are longer).





	1. Nothing Serious (4th Year)

**Author's Note:**

> These can be read separately or as a prequel to “An Emerald Christmas”
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing! The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.
> 
> The plot and characterisations associated with this story are the authors own mad ramblings and should be taken as such!

“Hermione Granger, would you like to come with me to the Yule Ball?” His voice trembled ever so slightly but that seemed much better than last time. At least he didn’t stumble over her name like some love struck child. Seamus glared at his reflection. “Come on Finnigan. Pull yourself together.”

Hermione hadn’t been asked yet. He really hoped that she was waiting for him. _He_ was trying to pluck up the nerve!

Who was he kidding? She was waiting for Weasley.

“What you doing, mate?” Dean asked from the doorway.

“Nothing serious,” Seamus mumbled, hurriedly turning from the mirror.


	2. It’s Only a Touch (6th Year)

Seamus reached, blindly, for his coat, dropped carelessly in the common room. The celebration continued, the Quidditch Cup won and he patted Dean on the shoulder, consoling him over Ginny and Harry’s departure.

Trying, but failing, to don the jacket he felt a soft hand touch his.

“I think you’ve got _my_ coat, Seamus.”

Her eyes were so beautiful as she smiled up at him, helping him to remove the small sleeve. Temporarily speechless, he could only smile back as she walked away, coat in hand.

“Pick me, Hermione,” he wanted to say, wanting her to smile at him again.


	3. Get Well Soon (2nd Year)

It is dark, quiet and Seamus is out and about after midnight. Every sound whilst creeping downstairs had been a monster (or, worse, a Filch), making him start and stare, heart hammering.

He creeps through the Hospital Wing, along rows of beds, past “Squeaky” Creevy, Clearwater and that Finch-Fletchley kid – the other victims of Slytherin’s monster.

Shadows followed. Creatures lay in wait.

Then he reaches her side and all his fear leaves him.

Placing a simple card at her bedside he looks into her eyes, fixed straight upwards. “Get well soon, Hermione,” he whispers, “You’re kinda cute - for a bookworm.”


	4. True Gryffindor Bravery - Not! (3rd Year)

“Dufftown? That’s not far from here.”

Seamus tried to speak but, when she looked at him, got tongue-tied. The others started to panic a little – she, however, was calm in the face of this potential threat from Sirius Black.

He studied her surreptitiously throughout the day, her confidence, her hair, smile, eyes. _She’s not plain at all_ , he thought, dismissing Dean’s comments to him whilst they were discussing girls.

He was gonna ask her out! She was a know-it-all, but she was a cute one. Every time she looked his way though, he panicked!

"True Gryffindor bravery,” he muttered, sarcastically.


	5. Something On Your Cheek (6th Year)

“AND WEASLEY HAS GOT THE SNITCH!!!” Ernie Macmillan roared from the commentary box, “150 POINTS!! GRYFFINDOR WIN THE QUIDDITCH CUP! FINAL SCORE – 450 to 140!”

 

Hardly anyone in the crowd was paying attention to him though, the various supporters were either cheering or booing, depending on their allegiances – or in the Slytherins’ case, continued booing and jeering, simply just because they hated every other team!

 

The Gryffindor section of the stands was the noisiest area of all, every single member of Gryffindor house was there, roaring, cheering and stamping their feet – all except for Harry, of course. But, for the time being, no-one spared him a second thought. Their attention was solely on the team that had pulled this miraculous win out of the bag, saving Gryffindor honour again.

 

The team sank to the pitch, arms wrapped around each other in celebration, Ginny at the centre holding the now placid Snitch aloft.

 

Another couple had just embraced too, up in the stands.

 

As the final whistle went and the stands erupted, Seamus turned to the people he had been stood next to all match and hugged them, overjoyed with the victory. He barely noticed who they were, he was so happy. So relieved!

 

That was until the person on his left got the hug.

 

The arms that wrapped around his neck in return stilled his heart. The bushy hair that filled his vision, the scent that smothered his remaining senses – parchment, ink, mints – all flowed from the girl’s hair and neck as Hermione squeezed hard, all the time shouting into his ear.

 

Seamus could feel every contour of her body as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against his body – the press of her breasts against his chest, her cheek pressed to his, her thighs in contact with his. He closed his eyes, blotting out the rest of the world, feeling only her, touching only her, hearing only her. For that one moment, that lasted forever, they were alone.

 

And she was his.

 

Then the moment passed and she was pulling away. He didn’t let go, just stared into her eyes. She looked back into his, her face flushed with excitement and happiness, the smile on her face radiant. He took in everything he could; knowing this moment was about to end and desperately wanting to prolong it, to tell her he wanted her.

 

She looked into his eyes when she couldn’t step away from him and, what she saw in them caused her breath to catch. A heat, so intense it looked like it could burn. But then he blinked and it was gone, leaving her to wonder if she had imagined it. Smiling hesitantly up at Seamus she was relieved when his face relaxed into the more familiar, easy-going grin she was used to.

 

“Like that hug did ya, Hermione?” Seamus said with a cheeky grin. “Seemed to be squeezin’ me pretty tight there!”

 

With a scandalized look on her face, Hermione punched him on one shoulder, laughing. In truth there was a lingering heat, from the Irish boy’s body, that continued to warm her – a heat that spread to her face when she realized the path her thoughts were taking. A path that she didn’t foresee thinking about with Seamus involved, in truth. Still, he was only playing… wasn’t he?

 

“You’re a cheeky one, Seamus Finnigan,” she said in an uncharacteristically breathless way.

 

“Aye, that I am!” Seamus laughed, though inside he died a little at the look he had seen on her face. She had almost looked offended, just for a moment, and then covered it with a laugh. He didn’t hear the breathlessness over the roar of the crowd, didn’t know the momentary heat that lingered in the clever witch’s stomach and groin from his touch.

 

Both assumed something… both of them wrong.

 

“You got… uh…” he stuttered, pointing to Hermione’s face. When she looked confused, glancing behind her, he simply reached out and stroked his thumb over her cheek, so gently. She trembled at the touch even as he stored this extra sensation away in the depths of his mind. Showing Hermione his hand, he revealed a smudge of gold and red face paint on his thumb. “Got… uh… something on your cheek,” he said quietly.

 

She gazed at Seamus, seeing where the Gryffindor colours, which had been painted on his face, had been smudged slightly by their embrace. She put one hand to her cheek, thinking that she could still feel the heat of his touch and stole a quick look at the pitch, unable to see Ron. “Thanks,” she whispered looking back again. It was inaudible over the noise but she saw Seamus incline his head in acknowledgement.

 

Drawing a deep breath Seamus turned to the pitch again, just as the team lifted into the air for a victory lap. Putting all thoughts of Hermione out of his head – he had seen her look for Weasley just then and he knew that the red-head was first for her; for now anyway. Letting it go as a lost chance he bellowed, “WEASLEY IS OUR KING!!” The Gryffindors around him took up the song, taking the noise level to new heights.

 

The touch was enough. Enough for now.

 

There was always time for another.


	6. That’s Great (4th Year)

Seamus summoned all of his nerve and determination. Hermione walked towards him with a huge smile on her face and, for once, she was alone. No girls, no Potter, no Weasley… just her.

 

“I’m gonna ask her, I’m gonna ask her,” he chanted like a mantra as he rehearsed his invitation.

 

Her smile made her angelic. “Hi Seamus!”

 

“Hey, Hermione...” he started but she continued talking, seemingly too excited to stop.

 

“Viktor Krum just asked me to the Yule Ball… and I said yes!” Her face was filled with a happiness that lifted her beyond normal beauty. “I’m not completely sure _why_ I said yes… but the Tri-Wizard Tournament _is_ about unity so, logically, it should set a good example, don’t you think. Besides, no-one else has asked me yet, so I thought, ‘Why not?’”

 

“Yeah, why not!” Seamus said, with a cheerfulness that he didn’t feel. A forced smile graced his face as his heart gave up and sank to his feet. “So, yeah… Krum… that’s… uh… great.”

 

She didn’t seem to notice the pain in his eyes, perhaps she was already thinking about her hair, or dress. Girls did that sort of thing… so he had heard. He mimed zipping his mouth closed when she asked him to keep it secret for now, watching her almost skip down the corridor.

 

Leaning his head against the cold stone of the corridor, he felt the bitter sting of frustration, burning his skin. “That’s great,” he muttered, under his breath.


	7. Unrequited (7th Year)

Her return to my life is like the “tumble of small stones that start an avalanche in the mountains”. Another wizard said that. Not a real one, but the best that Muggles can come up with. Stumbling into the Room of Requirement in a sudden rush I get the chance to watch her for a moment, unnoticed. Wild haired. Beautiful. Radiant.

I’m not _pretty_ right now, thanks to the Carrows. Maybe I’ll be _interesting_ instead; kinda rugged.

Shock in her eyes when she knows it’s me, battered, bruised… but it’s not desire. Or love.

Still with Weasley then. Lucky fecker.


	8. Dear Hermione… (After Hogwarts)

_Dear Hermione,_

_I’ve been thinking of writing this letter for some time now but kept chickening out. When it comes to you, I can’t seem to keep my thoughts in order. Especially when you are in front of me._

_We’ve been friends for sometime now, during and after Hogwarts and I think that I can safely say that I think about you far more than is healthy. Ever since our second year I’ve liked you, fancied you I suppose you could say. I even left you a “Get Well Soon” card, after the Basilisk got you. Sneaked down to the Hospital Wing at midnight and everything! Since that year you’ve been more than just “another girl” to me – you were cute, even back then (even if you were/are a know-it-all)._

_I’m kidding. I’ve never thought of you as a know-it-all. Smart, clever, amazing… all of those. But know-it-all is what Snape called you once so I would never seriously call you that._

_The year after, you were confident, amazing really, when Sirius Black was at large. You showed true Gryffindor bravery… not like me. I was thinking of asking you out that year but couldn’t pluck up the nerve! How cowardly is that? No wonder the Sorting Hat considered me for Hufflepuff!_

_You then became something more than pretty or cute, something more than beautiful and I wasn’t the only one to notice you anymore. Our 4 th year - the Yule Ball. I wanted to ask you to go with me but, at first, couldn’t pluck up the nerve – again! You turned down Neville and my heart thought, for a moment, that you might be waiting for me to ask you (not Ron, like my head was telling me). Then I did go to ask you, only to find that Krum had beaten me to it!_

_I told you I was pleased but secretly wanted you to throw him over and come with me instead! I don’t know what would have happened if I had just taken the chance and asked you. But I never did. Never could._

_I still remember, every day, the hug you gave me in the stands when we won the Quidditch Cup two years later, against all the odds! It was a huge squeeze that turned my legs to jelly and warmed every part of me. You got something on your cheek and I got to wipe it off – face paint, red and gold. It looked good on you. And that simple touch was more amazing than all the magic in the universe._

_You could say that it’s only a touch, a hug and didn’t really mean anything – but it meant everything to me. Just to hold you like that, like you were my girl. I never wanted to let you go and I nearly kissed you there and then. Only the thought that my feelings were unrequited held me back. I knew that you fancied Ron and that’s great – he’s a nice guy and everything. I dare say that he takes care of you too._

_But (and here is the hard part), should you find that he is not the one for you – that you find yourself thinking that an Irish boy could ever give you more than just a friendly smile – then let me know. Because, to me, you are perfect._

_Hermione,_

 

 

“Miss Granger, good afternoon,” said Tom, the barman.

 

Hearing her name, her pleasant voice greeting Tom in return, Seamus’ head snapped up in a panic. A small amount of ink spilled onto the letter he was writing, from his poised quill. _Crap! She’s early!_ In a panic Seamus grabbed his wand, conscious of her approaching fast, heels clicking on the wooden floors of the Leaky Cauldron.

 

Thought abandoned him and all intentions of actually _giving_ this letter to Hermione fled too. _Merlin! Can you imagine the look on her face if she read this drippy confession?_ Grabbing the parchment he flicked his wand at it, the missive flaring instantly and burning fast. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that she was there, right at his shoulder.

 

Her hair was still bushy and beautiful. Her face was perfectly made up, simple, understated – a slightly quizzical smile on her lovely lips. Her eyes were smiling, as though she was concerned about something. Time ceased to exist; he could only gaze at her, taking in her beauty. _Merlin’s left nipple, you’ve got it bad, Finnigan!_

 

“Seamus? What _are_ you doing?”

 

Seamus gave a sudden hiss of pain. Dropping the blackened remains of the letter he sucked desperately on his fingers, trying to cool the injured skin. “Nothing serious,” he mumbled.


End file.
